Look After You
by Sophira
Summary: Luxia has leukemia. Her one wish: to live. The same as any sick child. After time goes on, it seems her wish is dying. Until one night, in a cliche flash of lightening, she finds something she wouldn't have if she hadn't gotten sick. - Loki/OC -
1. Chapter 1

_**This story deals with mainly domestic elements and a character going through chemotherapy. But, there is an actual plot to the story so do try to stick with me. **_

_**Song: **Scar Tissue, Red Hot Chili Peppers_

* * *

_**Scar Tissue that I wish you saw**_

_**Sarcastic mister know it all**_

_**Close your eyes and I'll kiss you cus**_

_**With the birds I'll share**_

_**This lonely view**_

* * *

Two seperate beings.

Two different beings.

Both in humiliating positions.

The young woman is staring in horror at her reflection, he is standing at the foot of a throne.

She is bare, he is bound in chains.

She is sorrowful, he is angry.

"I'm disgusting," she whispers, tears brimming her eyes.

"I am not sorry," he whispers, an angry fire in his eyes.

Her body is shaking, and he refuses to give a sign of weakness.

Eyes reflect against them, a set full of sorrow and mourning, a set firm and angry.

"It's time," she is told.

"You are stripped of your powers," he is told.

Her eyes go wide over her shoulder, from fear and not surprise.

His eyes go wide above him, not fear but from rage.

She is dressed in a paper gown, he is led to the edge of an abyss.

She is laid back on a cold table, he feels the agony of separation.

Her eyes close against a flash, he cries out as he is hurled into hard soil.

Her eyes open as his does, tears sparkling in both and they speak in unison, both surprised at their own words.

"Help."

* * *

**_R&amp;R please, flames and praise are welcome._**


	2. Chapter 2

A groan slides past his lips and he tries to open his eyes but snaps them shut the moment he is assaulted by a bright light hanging overhead. Everything on him hurts, he has never felt so much pain in his long life. . .he has never felt _any_ pain in his long life. He tries thinking on what had happened to cause this pain and then he remembers everything that happened before he passed out and the anger is thick on his tongue. The surface beneath his head is soft but the alien - _ha!_ \- smell is making his nose twitch. He attempts opening his eyes again and the pain is less this time, but he sneers at his surroundings.

He is in a human hospital.

There are sick patients shuffling past him, lying in beds across from him. He has been placed in a far corner, away from the main buzz of the intensive care unit, but the smells and sights do nothing to ease his mind. Why is he here? It is disgusting, to even be near these filthy creatures.

His eyes flicker around, trying to find out why he is not up and moving, why he is still in this rather uncomfortable bed. And the pieces click together as he finds his leg in a cast. When Heimdall stole his powers, he must have also taken his _immortality_. Loki wants to bang his head against something. **Hard**.

"Hi there."

He looks up for the briefest moment and finds to his left, a smiling young woman. She is aesthetically pleasing, her features soft and round, her eyes the most peculiar shade of turquoise and she is wearing a bright red head wrap, a few strands of white hair peeking out from under the fringes. He blinks slowly and then looks away from her, choosing to ignore her attempt at conversation and stew over his predicament. What was he to do now? There was nowhere for him to go, he had no powers, there was nothing he could do.

And then she speaks again.

"My name is Luxia, what's your name?"

He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, trying to ignore her again. The first thing he needed to do was find somewhere to plot some sort of revenge. There were several beings he could still call on, several other creatures more than willing to help him bring Asgard from its heavenly orbit. But he had to choose wisely, these creatures would also eat him alive. And that was not on his list of life experiences.

"Don't have ta be mean," her voice has a slight a drawl to it, but it wasn't thick, light enough to actual draw his attention again.

His eyes flickered around her face, seeing how she was wrapped in one of those paper gowns and she was twitching nervously. "Must we have this interaction? I am trying to figure a way out of this."

Her laugh tingles through his ears, making him narrow his eyes gently. She waved a hand at him, shaking her head and then she opens her eyes again; they seemed to sparkle. "Oh, sweetheart there is no way out of here until that leg of yours heals up. And by the way it was busted when ya got in 'ere, you'll need rehabilitation. You aren't leavin for awhile."

He swallows thickly. "You saw. . .?"

She nodded a little, picking at the frayed hem of the blanket covering her. "Yeah, you looked like shit," she smiled at him, in a worn way. "But I supposed I wasn't doing any better, I look fantastic compared to you."

"You seem fine," he grumbles, hating how he is being drawn into a temporary normalcy.

She laughs again and there is a bitter undertone to it. "Honey, are you blind," he shakes his head, jaw set in aggravation. "Then how can you not see how sick I am?"

His eyes find her face again and he now takes her full appearance in, his brow deepening. Her eyes are sunken, hollow, her lips severely cracked and blue. "What is wrong with you?"

Her lips flutter for a moment. "Chemo is a bitch."

Chemo? "Leukemia?"

Her eyes widen for a moment and then she nods. "Wow, got it on th' first guess," she looks up when her name is called. She looks back to him with a sad smile. "Tell them to keep your bed here. They'll come for you again in an hour and I won't be back for awhile."

"Why would I want to stay here?"

She smiles and welcomes a nurse in snowman scrubs that helps her from the bed, ignoring him for a moment. As she slides from the bed into the wheelchair, he can't help but notice the deep violet hue across the back of her neck and arms, the stitches that flash on her lower back. His face is placid as she smiles up at the nurse, putting on a strong face but he can see the cringe from sure pain coming for her. Her eyes then go to him, her hands stalling the nurse who has all of the patience in the world.

"Tell them to leave your bed here," she says firmly. "Say my name, they'll listen. Bye."

It's the most spontaneous encounter he has ever had, even though he is practically tied to a bed in the middle of a mortal hospital. He rolls his head and secures his eyes on the ceiling above him, mind wandering constantly and then he purses his lips gently. Why has this happened to him? Oh right, he killed more than a handful of humans in New York. So what, many men had died at the hands of Odin and did anyone scold him for it? Banish him, like they should have? No, they did not. So of course, when the unwanted son does something like that, he is cast out. He would have rather he be locked in the dungeon. To Odin, that probably seemed like the cushy life.

Loki closed his eyes, the wear of being injured in such a way making him tired. Was this what it was like to be mortal? It seemed like such a bore. . .

* * *

His eyes snap open at the sound of a mortal whimper.

The light is out above him and there are blue backs to him. For a moment, he mistakes them for Frost Giants and his body reacts though he has no powers. His skin flashes blue, eyes going red and he tries to sit up. But when he sees the polar bears on the scrubs he reins it in just in time for one of the nurses to look back at him. He knows he looks far more pathetic than he would ever want to, but looking up in shock, he felt the almost innocent look would just have to do.

The scrubbed woman looks over the bed she is standing in front of, tugging the thick blanket over a heavy lump in the center of the bed. "Doctor Chickales, he is awake."

A thick figure grunts as he prepares an IV, waiting for the fluids to begin rolling before he tugs down his mask and places a firm hand against the shoulder of his patient. "It should help with the pain, if you need any more help just press the call button."

He waits for a nearly mute answer and then rounds the bed, nodding at the nurses that had gathered and then he waits for them to leave before he grabs the clipboard hanging from the end of Loki's bed. He flips through a few papers before he shakes his head and looks down at Loki. Their eyes meet, Loki does not care about this, but he must keep up some kind of façade until he can leave.

"I will need your name, sir. To check medical records and other things, you understand this?"

"No," he is honest. "I do not. I can promise you I have no medical records or anything else that will be of help. I have no money and my only possessions came on my person. My name is not something I would like to discuss out loud for the moment seeing as I do not need these swine calling me by it. I will gladly give it to you the day of my release."

Chickales stares at Loki for a long time, seeing how firm his sentences were and then he sighed, letting the papers drop in his hand. "I suppose I can't force you to give up any information unless you have mental disabilities," his lips quirked in the corner. "Are you in any pain? Experiencing any breathing problems, muscle spasms?"

"Pain is minimal, breathing complications and spasms are null."

Loki had him tongue tied for a moment and then the doctor grumbled, clipping the board back to the end of his bed. "Fine, if you need anything press the call button in the underside of her left arm rest."

Loki hesitated for a moment, eyes staring at the lump in the bed next to him and then he called back for the doctor. "Is this the young woman that was lying there before?"

Chickales eyes met the bed next to Loki's and he nodded. "Yes, it is. Do not disturb her, she is in a very delicate state right now and any disturbances could upset her."

Loki kept quiet as the doctor sped away, mumbling about having too many patients to deal with. He rolled his head to the right, staring at the quivering back of his bed mate. "Luxia?"

"Ssh," her sigh was shaky and then silence.

For the first time ever, Loki did not snap back. He could feel the shock coming. The situation was beginning to sink in. He didn't know what to do. Loki was scared, he was terrified. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be home! He wanted to be back in Asgard, before he started all of this mess, before he destroyed everything. He wanted to be back with his mother, even if he had to deal with Odin's oppression and favoritism.

His fingers fumbled for a moment before he found the button and when he pressed down, he didn't let go. It continued to buzz and he had never been so happy to see a human face in his life. His eyes rolled, ears ringing and he faintly saw Luxia looking back at him, her eyes sunken and cheeks wet with tears, dried blood flaking under her nostrils.

* * *

He is not in the void.

He is not dead.

But he mine as well be.

Everything is so crisp and white, he truly thinks he has entered Valhalla. But no, that realm is preserved for warriors and Loki is no warrior. He is the scholar – in the human realm. He is the one that plans battles but does not engage unless it is necessary. And Loki notices slowly that he is still in that bed, still surrounded by a mass of fluttering humans he does not want to be around. His head rolls but he doesn't say anything, he just stares at the ceiling with slow blinking eyes.

"Hey, you're awake."

It takes him a moment and then he rolls his head, looking over at Luxia. She is obviously sick today, her head wrap still tight but she is swaddled in a blanket. She adjusts where she is holding it together and reaches to the table at her bedside. She rummages around there for a moment, his attention painfully stuck on her, and then she turns back to him. There is a glass of water in her nimble fingers.

When he doesn't take it, she waves it at him a little. "I know you're thirsty," she watches with greedy eyes as he takes it. "I always get that way after I go into shock. You took longer than I expected ta go though."

As the last drop of water slides across his tongue he peers over at her. He hands the glass back to her, watching her as she turns away from him again. There are new bruises and flushing's to her skin but he doesn't mention them. He does not care. He looks up at the ceiling as she turns back, listening to the buzzing going on around him. He was successfully blocking everything out, trying not to listen, trying not to think until he was out of this Hel hole.

Loki did not belong here, he belonged on a throne, ruling over a kingdom. But no, he couldn't be there. He had to be hopelessly mortal and stranded on an alien – there's that word again – planet with no means of income, privilege or really rights. He briefly wonders if he will be able to leave this retched place. There were no set boundaries, no promises or deals. No typical saying like_ ' Until you have learned the consequences of your actions…'._ No, it was simply,_ 'You are stripped of your powers and left to your own devices, have a dismal life among the creatures you hate so much'._

Loki did not hate humans. He couldn't stand them, but that didn't mean he hated them. They were below him, they were nothing but they weren't quite vermin.

"You still didn't give me your name."

Why does she insist on talking to him?

"You seem smart enough to figure out that I am ignoring you for a reason," he doesn't even look at her.

"Yeah, but you still answer me. So I guess we're at a sort of impasse."

"Damn you, mortal."

"Huh?"

He slipped. He can't slip, he can't have that. Not until he had his powers restored, until he was able to figure out a plan.

"Quiet, I am thinking."

"You're so rude, sugar. That kind of attitude don' get ya far in Atlanta."

Atlantis? No, she said Atlanta. What the Hel was an Atlanta? It must be the city or town they are in. Well, there is something. Perhaps. . .perhaps he can get more out of this human willing to speak to him. The human that _insists _on conversing with him. As she falls silent, he hears shuffling and tries to fight the urge to peer at her, fights the urge to see what it is she is doing beside him. He succeeds for a moment, eyes riveted to the lights above him but as another slick sound passes through his ears, he finally gives in and looks over at her.

She has a book placed in her lap and her eyes are moving at a fast pace, her fingers slipping through the pages faster than he has seen in awhile. "You read."

She looks up at him as he speaks, sort of stunned that he is speaking at all, and then she stutters out an answer. "Y-Yes," she hesitates; he's talking to her! "Do you?"

He huffs and closes his eyes, head rolling as if he is staring at the ceiling again. "Of course I do, only uncultured swine do not appreciate the beauty of literature."

Her breath is snatched from her throat and a small squeak escapes her lips. She is happy and his eyes take that in, his lips twitching slightly in the corners but she cannot take it in right now. Her stomach is rolling and her head is spinning; she's gonna throw up. She reaches to the right of the bed, fingers finding a button and she presses down on it hard before she clambers to the place between her and his bed. She comes up with a pink, plastic bin and turns away from him as she vomits into it.

Two nurses come running as Loki watches in curiosity, disgust hidden behind that. "Here sweetheart, put this on ya forehead," one of the nurses mutters, holding a cool cloth to Luxia. She takes it with a mute nod and closes her eyes. "Blood pressure spike, side effect of th' pain killers."

This woman's accent is far less pleasing than the young blonde who is now asleep. Loki finds he does not like it, not one bit. In a way, he thinks how dare she, taking something so disgustingly beautiful and changing it into something that needs to be in an old western? And then he realizes his fault and huffs, closing his eyes again. He cannot wait to be rid of this realm and its insufferable human occupants.


	3. Chapter 3

Loki keeps a mental note over the next week, finding himself becoming more and more familiar with the signs of her sickness.

They conversed for a few hours and then her tongue would get tied so he would call a nurse and it would be fixed. He did not like the idea of becoming fond of this human, which he was.

She was intelligent and airy, she actually had a sense of humor he hadn't paid attention too in a long time. He was so used to trying to prove himself, so used to hearing epic tales of battle, that he forgot what having a _calm_ conversation was like. Even after a thousand years of life, Loki had never talked too easily to anyone or anything before. She talked with her hands a lot, waving them about in the air as though they were telling the story instead of her lips. She laughed a lot, a weird sort of laugh that made his right eye twitch but he put up with it.

"Why can't you tell me your name," she pried again.

It had been going on for three days.

"I just believe it would be best to not get too attached," he muttered. "Once I am able to walk again, I am leaving."

"That doesn't mean I can't have a name," she pouted. "I think after all of the work I put into you, I at least deserve that."

"All of the work you put into me," he looked at her incredulously, unknowing in his slip in façade. "How dare you."

She giggled a little. "You talk so funny, where you from? Can you tell me that?"

"No," there was no hesitation in his throat. "Why must you insist on becoming familiar with me?"

"Because you're funny," she adjusted the blanket over her legs. "I always have a bed mate that is either too sick to talk or is always so mean ta me that I can't stand them. But I like you. . .don't you like me?"

He didn't say anything, he just looked back up to the ceiling. Her accent is so strange, he supposed his wasn't exactly normal for this realm. She had called him British twice but he had refused to say he was anywhere near human standards on his culture. He would tell her nothing and she would not get attached, she would not mourn for his loss and he would soon slip from the memory of the humans here. He would be another ghost in the corner, he would be a shadow.

As he had always been to most that met him.

"Why are you so mean?"

His body tensed and he looked back over to her. "Since when –"

She shook her head. "You're always mean," she sighed. "You'll be super nice and then you'll just. . ._snap_, I guess. It's really frustrating when I'm just trying to be your friend."

"Friend?"

Now didn't he sound pathetic.

"Yeah," her tone became frustrated. "Friend. What, never had friends before?"

Loki couldn't really say he never had friends before. Thor's friends had once been his, but that was when they were children and then everything changed when Loki decided against becoming a warrior. He wasn't built for that, he was built for long ranged attacks, attacks of the mind and magic had come so easily to him. So, for the last thousand years, Loki had not had friends. But he wanted a friend, just not a human. That was too fragile a friendship. It wasn't one that would last. She would die or she would ask questions, mainly as to why he was not aging. And that was not a question he could answer. He would have to clear her memory.

He wouldn't do that, couldn't.

"No," he hummed a little. "And I do not intend to have any, not now anyway."

She blinked slowly and then she laughed. He cringed at the laugh and glared at her. "You're so weird!"

Weird?

"How dare you."

She pointed at him. "You've said that before! See, weird!"

Was she trying to get some sort of rise out of him? She wouldn't do it.

"Heathen."

Ok, maybe she would.

It only made her laugh harder. "You sound like an old man!"

"And that's a bad thing?"

He was old, far older than she would ever be. But he couldn't tell her that, now could he?

She laughed again and then it died down, a smile coming onto her lips. "Will you tell me your name?"

He stared at her blankly for a long time and then he blinked, slow and agonizing, making her smile turn sweeter. "Loki…my name is Loki."

Her smile continued to mesmerize him, continued to make him stare at her in such interest that it made others stare warily from the far corner of the room. "I like that name. . .I like it a lot."

* * *

He was in that bed for two weeks when she disappeared.

He woke up one night, a horrible nightmare rocking his frame. As his eyes opened, the sweat dripped across his lashes, making him blink over and over again while his heart felt like it was beating the muscle of his chest into a mush. His hands gripped the handle of the bed, enough to leave indents he had nothing to blame on. The lights in the corner were off again, a sheet separating him from the rest of the room after copious amounts of complaining.

He reached up, wiping at his forehead as he looked out the window. He had been told he was on the fourth floor of a large hospital and it was enough to see halfway over the top of the glittering city. It was strangely beautiful, far more beautiful than New York had been. At least they had an over-growth of trees here. New York just had pathetic sticks along the sidewalk and a big patch of green in the center.

Disgusting.

"Same nightmare," he stated, knowing she was awake.

She was always awake in the middle of the night, always there. But the relative silence was not something he was used to. It took him a moment but he finally looked over to her bed and found it empty, perfectly straightened and pin neat. He could still smell her, still smell that awful perfume she used on occasion, especially when she was not feeling her best. She was always there, where was she?

He didn't notice his heart racing again until he felt his breath quickening against his lips, a strand of black hair fluttering against the chapped skin. He reached up, wiping at his forehead again and he pushed himself up into a seated position, his eyes never leaving that empty bed.

Two weeks…two damn weeks and she leaves without saying something? Just up and leaves, without letting him know where she was going, without telling him goodbye or anything? He sounded like a pathetic mortal but he didn't care. She was…someone there to make him feel like he wasn't alone. Loki hated being alone and she was always there to make him feel hopeful. She had a power, and he hated saying that. How much he loathed thinking that about her overruled any of his hatred of Thor or even Odin. She was someone to talk to, someone to occupy his mind, someone to make him think of anything else but her sickness and his injury and the hell he was hurled into. Luxia was a very intelligent young woman, though she was only twenty one.

"_I'm a miracle baby."_

He had gone quiet after she had said that.

His eyes flickered up as the curtain was pulled back and a small young woman came in, dressed in pink scrubs. She smiled at him. "Well hi there," she held a clipboard in her hand and was tapping the pen against the side of it. "Didn't expect you to be awake, just came to check your vitals."

"Luxia," his voice was firm. "Where is she?"

Her eyes shook and she looked over at the empty bed beside him, pointing sideways with her pen. "Oh, right," she smiled at him again. "She was released this afternoon, I think. That's what her chart said anyway."

"Why would she be allowed to be released when she is so fragile," he sneered at her.

He was making her uncomfortable, making her hazy, making her forget what it was she came here to do in the first place. At least he hadn't lost that when he was thrown here. His wit, his sharp tongue, his _anger_. Her steps shook back and forth for a moment and then the nurse swallowed, trying to sound firm like the others but she was a novice, she did not have the strong will the others had. She was no rousing partner to fight, she was nothing. Just a weak little girl playing dress up at this point.

"Th-The doctor said -."

"I do not care what the _doctor _said, you need to check your notes. She is too ill to leave."

She didn't like his clipped tone. "I-I don-"

"Now, Trisha, don't be stunted by our patient," a familiar nurse glared at him. "He's a feisty one."

Trisha looked back at the woman and nodded, shuffling out of the way, close to tears. The older nurse chuckled and stepped in, closing the curtain and she gave him a scolding look. The nurse was a frequent of this wing of the hospital. Luxia had called her Marideth. Loki called her nothing. That's what she was to him, nothing.

"Calm yourself around the newbies, you might scare them off."

"Go away," he growled.

But she didn't.

She hovered around him, checking his vitals and making sure he was comfortable. As her fingers ghosted over the bars of his bed, she noticed the indents and looked at him quizzically. "What happened?"

He followed where she was touching. "Nightmare," was all he said.

She stared down at him, leaving the word to hang in the air. _Nightmare_. She pursed her lips gently and walked around the bed, pausing at the curtain, half open, and then she looked back at him. "She's coming back, you know."

"Hmm," he didn't look at her, he didn't want to seem desperate for an answer.

"Luxia," she sighed a little bit. "She'll be back in soon. She jumped out of bed this morning, got dressed and said something about going to buy something green."

Ah, so released for the day.

His brow furrowed gently. Something green? Why wouldn't she say anything to him? He watched the curtain flutter for a moment and then looked over at that empty bed. He was kind of scared that she was gone. That wasn't something he was used to feeling. He didn't want to feel it but there it was, staring at him, growling at him with an ugly set of teeth. Loki sighed and adjusted himself into a seated position. He plucked up the book on the rolling table to his left ad he thumbed through the pages, finding the place he had been at yesterday and he began reading.

Anything to pass the time.

Anything to keep him busy until she came back.


	4. Chapter 4

"Get her in that bed now!"

Loki's eyes shot up to the rush of movement in the corner of his eye. The curtain was ripped back, a male nurse cradling Luxia in his arms and two female nurses ran in behind him. As soon as her back connected with the bed, they were injecting her with needles secured to her i.v. bag hanging to her right. Her head lolled limply and someone tossed a rather large bag onto Loki's table, causing a bottle to tumble to the floor and sending Luxias glasses to the floor.

He watched them silently, listened to the nurses babble out nonsense and after awhile, everything seemed to settle down. One nurse was left and she grasped the clear bag of fluids hanging from the hook, massaging the bag to get the fluids running faster. She sighed and looked back at Loki, who was still solemn in his staring.

"She collapsed in the elevator," the nurse started walking towards the slip in the curtain. "Please press the call button when she wakes up."

Loki still said nothing as the curtain fluttered shut. He listened to the beep and hum of voices over the com. His eyes flickered to Luxia's slack form, watched her fingers twitch in her lap and noticed how dark her violet shirt was. It was damp with sweat. She had over done it. Why had she gone out by herself? Why had she done such a thing, why had no one stopped her? Knowing the way she worked – and he did by now – she must have snuck out. Again, the question came as to why she wanted to leave the hospital for the day? His eyes moved to the bag. What was inside? If he wanted to, he could open it, look inside and see why she had left.

But she was awake.

And she was staring at him with half lidded eyes and her chest was heaving deeply, her headwrap slipping up her forehead as she lifted her left arm. She nudged the bag towards him, the wires shaking against themselves and the bag was closer to him.

"It's green. . .tell me what ya think," her voice was weak and tired.

He stared at her silently, watching her lids flutter close again but she wasn't asleep, she was just weak. He was told to press the call button, but he didn't. Not yet.

He looked over at the bag and reached for it, taking it in his hands and he set it in his lap. He was hesitant, he thought it would be a secret. But then Loki peeled the bag apart, pushing apart fluorescent paper and he found a turtle. It was solid and green, a cartoonish smile on the tip of what was supposed to be his head. Loki lifted it, testing its weight and would have thought it to be heavier but it wasn't. There were others things that jingled in the bottom of the bag but he knew this was what she had wanted him to see.

He looked over at her, saw her staring at him again and nodded once. "I think it is. . .just fine."

She smiled weakly at him, letting her head loll to the side and then Loki pressed the call button.

* * *

"You need to curl it backwards."

"I am not an imbecile," he growled, lifting his leg.

Physical therapy was not something Loki deemed easy.

He had thought it would be simpler than this. It was just moving his once broken leg around, getting it used to the weight of his body again. But this was the first time in three hours that he had gotten the leg to curl. He did not have as much control over his body as he thought. His teeth grit as pain shot through his nerves, centering around his shin. He must have completely shattered the bone when he hit Midgard. Heimdal must have enjoyed watching Loki be hurdled towards this relative Hell on Earth.

"You go you," the nurse – a regular to Loki and Luxia – cheered slightly in his ear. She had a firm grip on his elbows and he couldn't say he didn't appreciate the support; he just wouldn't admit it. "We'll get this leg fixed in no time, but I have to say you are a lot heavier than I thought you would be."

That made him tense slightly and he stopped curling his leg, a sigh of relief coming from his lips as the pain began to simple feel like an ache. "You don't say," was all he could manage.

The nurse nodded, steering him towards the wheelchair he had arrived in; he hated how pathetic it was to be wheeled around this place. "You certainly are heavy, but of course you're a man. I'm used to working with women who are much smaller than you."

Of course, there was a difference between weight for men and women on Midgard. In Asgard, the difference was simply in height and age. When someone was in the prime of their life – meaning ages 14 to at least 40 (the exception being if you were a God like Loki, the Council and a few selective bodies throughout the kingdom) – they were at their heaviest, but once they were too old, which was a guessing game up there, their weight would decrease deeming them unworthy of fighting.

Down here, it was simply gender differences – in a glazed over situation.

Loki let out another small sigh as he was lowered into the chair, scowling as the nurse turned him towards the door. "You been in any pain?"

"Obviously," he grumbled.

She chuckled, unfazed by his sour attitude. "I mean before we started this morning."

He actually thought on it; he had learned quickly that an attitude only got so far around here and Loki was at their mercy because of his powers having been taken. He was simply a mortal, for the time being. That was still questionable, considering he could still control the Jotun side of him that came out a few times since he had been stranded here. When he woke up from nightmares. . .

"No," he muttered, thinking. "Where is Luxia?"

"Chemo," the nurse sighed and pushed him into the elevator, hitting the button labeled 4. She leaned against one of the walls. "She's not going to be in a very good mood when she gets back to her bed. Shouldn't have pulled that little stunt the other day."

Three days.

In just three days, Luxia had deteriorated into surgery. Her kidneys had started to fail, but she was stable now.

Human lives were a fleeting thing, a heartbeat. That was why Loki had been so angry when he found he truly enjoyed the presence of the rather fragile human.

He looked up to the nurse, something in his eyes while his face remained placid and unmoving. He didn't want to seem desperate, but he was. He was just grasping at air now. He was truly afraid to leave the hospital. Where would he go after this? Where would he go when there was nothing left for him here? When his leg was healed, they would just toss him out onto the streets.

Loki had nowhere to go.

"Here we are," the nurse pushed from the wall and gripped the handles of his wheelchair, pushing him out of the elevator. The nurse smiled over Loki's head while he stared down at the tiles of the floor, counting each one in some sort of trance. "And there is our lovely Luxia!"

His head shot up then, eyes slightly wide but his lips a straight line. She was sitting in her own wheelchair outside the double doors into their wing of the hospital. She was smiling at Loki with a full warmth. "We're getting moved," she stated.

The nurse stopped. "Excuse me?"

Luxia looked up to her, her smile widening. "He and I," she pointed between Loki and herself. "We're getting moved. To Mr. Clamptons old room. I requested it on my special tab."

"Oh. . ." the nurses enthusiasm seemed to wind down a bit. "Well, I guess we should get you guys moved, shouldn't we?"

"Beatrice is moving us," Luxia hesitated. "But if you want to, we can do it right now."

She was looking at Loki. They were both looking at Loki. He stuttered for a moment. "I suppose we can do it now."

Luxia grinned and the nurse smiled gently, leaving the both of them at the doors while she rambled about gathering Luxia's possessions. Luxia smiled at Loki for a long time, making him wonder what she was thinking before she leaned over and took his right hand in hers. He stared at that for a moment, looking up to her with a furrowed brow. She just gave his hand a squeeze and then released it, gripping the wheels on her chair.

"Wanna race?"

* * *

Everything _hurt_.

Loki cringed, his hands gripping the edge of the bed as he hoisted himself up. He couldn't take it. He looked over to Luxias bed and saw her fast asleep, jaw slack. He closed his eyes and shook his head, placing his feet flat on the floor. Pain shot up through the tendons, into his back and Loki hunched forward, eyes going wide and his lips parting to let out a strangled gasp of pain. His knees buckled inwards for a moment and then he caught himself, inching his way towards the window.

He leaned against the thick glass, sweaty forward staining the pane and his breath causing fog against the backdrop. He cringed as he stood straight, placing his left hand against the glass and he looked out over the city. He cringed as pain shot through his back and then his legs finally gave in, sending him to the floor. His hands smacked against the floor in an attempt to catch himself but it only made him cry out in pain.

How pathetic.

A God, crippled by his own body.

"Loki!"

He couldn't even muster the strength to look up at her gasp, he could only sigh when he felt her hands against his shoulders, trying to pull him up. He could feel how weak she was as she helped him turn over. As his back connected with the side of his bed, he took a firm hold of her right wrist and it held her still. She stared at him with wide, curious, eyes and then swallowed. But she didn't speak. She just remained silent, staring at him.

"You are in pain," he muttered.

She didn't look at him in any other way but sorry. "Kind of. . ."

"Liar," he growled, his fingers tightening around her wrist. "How much pain are you in?"

She shook her head fiercely. "Don't try to distract me," she scrambled to her feet and moved around him, leaning over his bed to press the call button. She slid back down to his side as soon as the buzz rang through the room. "You're in a lot of pain too," she pointed at him slightly. "I can see it around your eyes."

"Around my eyes?"

She nodded and looked down. "Yeah," she gestured to her own eyes. "Your eyes crinkle in the corners."

Silence again.

He wanted her to speak.

When she spoke, the pain was pushed to the back of his mind.

His eyes flickered around in front of him, his mind racing. "Do you think I will walk again," he whispered.

She looked up at him, eyes lost and worried. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. "Yeah," she looked down to her lap. "Yeah I think you'll walk again."

Loki blinked a few times. "Who was the turtle for," his voice wasn't even close to a whisper now, she barely heard him when he spoke.

Her tongue twisted behind her teeth and her vision blurred, heart twisting. Before she could open her mouth to give him an excuse, the door to their room opened and a male and female nurse came in. Luxia moved so they could get Loki back into his bed and then she curled up in her own, turning her back on him. Her eyes darted around on the tiles beside her bed, closing when she heard him give out yet another strangled gasp.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey everyone!**

**I know its been a long time since I updated - and even then I was a bit shifty - but the deal is, I've been a very busy bee dealing with this whole 'Adult' business. So, I haven't had the time to work on this story.**

**But never fear, a reprieve is here and I actually do have time to work on it. I will be redoing all chapters but I will not be updating just yet. I'm doing editing and polishing my idea to a mirror shine.**

**Too many plot holes in future chapters I had in mind and already too many holes where we stand, plus all that rushed writing - I'm ashamed.**

**I hope when I come back - give me a week, two at the most - that I will still have this lovely bunch to work with!**


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